


Uncloseted

by Hiraelle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 00:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18201098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiraelle/pseuds/Hiraelle
Summary: Ginny wants to tell the world about her relationship with Hermione. Hermione isn't so sure... She finds the courage, but will the world come around?





	Uncloseted

“I know you’re afraid but we can’t hide in this closet forever.” Ginny cast a look on the vast expanse of grass and sky and the lake next to them. “Metaphorically, I mean.”  
Hermione gnawed on her lip and avoided her eyes. She had gone back to Hogwarts for an eight year; Ron and Harry hadn't, and that had led her to gravitate towards Ginny. And it was Ginny who picked up the pieces when she had broken up with Ron – an amicable break up was still a break up. And one thing led to another, and they were a happy couple know.  
Except for one thing.  
Ginny wanted to tell the world about her love, and Hermione was afraid to tell even one soul.  
“What if they hate us for it? Ron and Harry... “  
“They would never hate us.” She took Hermione's hand. “They have moved on from us.” She wasn't entirely sure about that, but it would be true eventually anyway. “I want to bring you to my family as my girlfriend. I want to know your family too. We have dated for two months already. It's time to tell our friends. Our families. I can't... I can't live in secrecy like this. It's almost summer.”  
Hermione took back her hand. “I can't. I have to focus on NEWTs. You, too. I just can't.”  
She fled, leaving Ginny alone next to the lake. She picked up a rock and threw it angrily at the water. A giant tentacle caught it and flung it further away.  
Hermione was so brave. Why was her bravery not enough for this?

At first it was fun, to meet secretly, in alcoves, in closets (the irony wasn't lost on Ginny now). But it started to feel tight at the edges – and the edges were sharp. She didn't know when she had started to feel like it wasn't enough, like the stolen kisses weren't everything to her, like Hermione in secrecy wasn't enough. Ginny was loud and bright, and she wanted her relationship dear to her heart to be loud and bright.  
And Hermione was afraid.  
Ginny was afraid too, a deep weight in her gut, and still she wanted to be loud and bright with this.  
She wanted to bring Hermione home to her family.  
She wanted to kiss her out in the open, under the sun.

*

Being closeted was safe, Ginny admitted. It was even cozy sometimes, as she stroked Hermione's hand in front of the fireplace, after everyone had gotten to bed except them.  
“I love you” she murmured, and Hermione put her forehead to Ginny's.  
“I love you, too.” Hermione whispered, and she stroked Ginny's cheek. “And I'm sorry.”  
Ginny didn't have to ask what she was sorry for.  
The fire made golden shadows on Hermione's skin, and Ginny just looked at them, pained, and didn't answer.  
Being closeted was safe and hard.

*

“I'll tell my parents.” Hermione said to her, after she brilliantly passed her NEWTs. Well, she wasn't sure it was brilliant, but Ginny knew Hermione couldn't have passed them any other way.  
Ginny blinked at her. “What made you change your mind?”  
“You look so sad when we hold hands, and then someone comes and my hand slips out of yours.” Hermione looked at the side. “I don't want to see you sad.” She wrung her hands. “I don't know how they will take it. But you want to tell the world, and I want to tell my parents first.”  
Ginny hugged her. “They love you, Hermione.”  
Hermione sniffed against her shoulder. “I'm not sure they'd love me after this. And things have been tense since Australia... “ She hesitated. “But I don't want to stay in this closet forever either, Gin. I realized that. You made me realize that. It's my decision, ultimately.”

*

Two weeks into the summer, Hermione showed up at the Burrow. She put on a brave face, but Ginny could always tell when something was wrong.  
And something was very wrong. Ginny's heart plummeted.  
Ginny had told her family about her relationship with Hermione, and they had taken it well. She had to fend off intrusive questions, but they had supported her. But Hermione...  
“Hi, Mrs Weasley.” she was saying. “Can I... talk to Ginny?”  
“Of course, dear.” her mother smiled at the young witch. “We are so happy for you both.”  
Hermione's lip trembled, but her mother was already looking away to call Ginny. “Oh, you're here already. You might as well go to... the orchard?”  
Ginny would have smiled at her mother's repugnance to put them in a bedroom together now that she knew, but Hermione's distress was preoccupying her too much.  
She took Hermione's hand and to the orchard they went. Hermione was silent all the way there.

“They didn't take it well, Gin.” She was refusing to sob, it was apparent. “They told me it would pass. They told me I shouldn't see you again. They didn't kick me out, but... “ A few tears escaped and Hermione angrily swatted at them.”I told them I wouldn't give up on you. Never. I'm brave enough to face who I am.”  
“You can stay here for a while. I'm sure Mum and Dad won't mind.”  
Hermione smiled a shaky smile, but at least it was there. “I hoped you'd say that. I know... I hope they'll come around. But I can't stay at home right now. Not like this.”  
Ginny hugged her, and felt Hermione's tears on her neck. “I'm sorry.”  
“Not your fault. I wanted to tell them too. You pushed me to have the courage to do it, but I always wanted to. I wish it hadn't been like this but. Not your fault.”  
Ginny hugged her tighter. “I'm still sorry.”  
“I wish they were brave enough to face who I am too.”

*

The Burrow with Hermione there was strange. She had taken Ron's old room – he lived with George above the shop now – and Molly kept wanting to feed her. And Hermione was always sad, and Ginny too, and she felt guilty for having wanted to tell the world.

It wasn't like at all like she had dreamed living with Hermione would be like. She had dreamed they would have owned a small cottage, with a small garden. They would have a dog, or a cat, and owls. A big fireplace, plush armchairs, a cozy bedroom. They would have been happy.  
Now Hermione wasn't talking to her parents, and she looked at Ginny's mum with something like hurt on her face when she was offered more food, the way Molly Weasley showed affection. Ginny did everything quietly these days, too. Walking, eating, talking... Not that she talked much. The guilt was too overpowering.  
No, it wasn't like she imagined this to go at all.

*

Hermione was shouting at her in the orchard, and Ginny was shocked into stillness.  
“It's not your fault! I told you!” She took a deep breath, and paced, shooting into a fallen apple. It crunched into a tree. “You don't dare to make a move around me now. I know you feel guilty, it's written in every line of your body, in every thing you do.” She stopped pacing and walked straight to Ginny, getting into her face. “It sucks. But you don't get to make this about you, Ginny.”  
She walked out angrily, letting Ginny stand still.  
The air was sweet, and it had no right to be.

*

But Hermione was right, wasn't she? She had made this about herself and her guilt.  
Fine, it wasn't her fault. She would try to believe that.  
And in the meantime, she was loud again. She trampled the eggshells around Hermione, and Hermione smiled at her again. It was bright and sunny, like the sky after rain, and Ginny loved all the rare smiles Hermione threw her way – they were rare, yes, but cherished all the more for it.  
They lazed around in the orchard, or near the small stream, and sometimes they saw Luna there, or Ginny took her broom and flew and flew as Hermione watched her, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

One week after Hermione's outburst, five days after her first real smile, she got a letter from her parents. It was just like Hermione to let them know where she was going, even as she left home in a righteous rage.  
She read it on the far end of the couch after breakfast, her face hopeful, then crumpled it, the lines of her face hard.  
Ginny winced. She didn't need to ask if it was bad news, but Hermione gave her the ball of paper that had been a letter. “You can read it, or burn it, or both.” She hesitated. “I'd like you to read it, actually. I want you to know, but I don't want to talk to you about it.” She swallowed. “I need a moment.” She got up from the couch and up the stairs.  
Ginny stared at the stairs for a moment, then uncrumpled the ball of paper.

Hermione,

Please come home. I hope that by now you have realized that it was wrong of you to yell like that. We want only your happiness, as you surely know. We don't understand what has gotten into you – you still are our perfect girl. Just come home, and we'll get you to meet a few boys that you will surely like; Peter, for example, isn't he sweet?

Ginny didn't know who this Peter was, but Hermione had never mentioned him; she surely didn't find him sweet enough. A slow rage built inside her chest as she read the rest of the letter. They wanted to deny Hermione everything. Deny her who she was.

She crumbled the parchment into a ball again. She needed to go out. Hermione needed time, and she wouldn't intrude; they had already been on shaky grounds when she had put herself before Hermione's wishes. She didn't want to do that again.

Her mother didn't ask her what was wrong as she made her way to the garden, and she was absurdly grateful for it. Soon, her fingers found the reassuring wood of her broom, and she was out in the open air.  
Here in the sky, her worries seemed to lift off and float away like clouds. One loop, and she shed one worry. She had to loop a lot of time, but she got there, and soon enough she was just enjoying the moment, not thinking of anything – her and her broom, her and the wind, her and the sky.

Of course, as soon as she stepped down, her worries fell down over to her. She wasn't sure Hermione's parents would come around. Not after reading that letter still full of denial, two weeks after their daughter had left home.  
But Hermione was waiting for her, and she had the soft smile on her face that she always got when she watched Ginny fly.  
“You know, I'm sure you'll make it to professional one day.”  
Ginny grinned at her like she wasn't still thinking about the letter. “I hope so. I want to be ready for tryouts by next year, after all.”  
She continued to chat, filling the silence, and Hermione was giving her a grateful smile all the way.

*

When Harry and Ron visited, they didn't talk about Hermione's parents, or why she was staying at the Burrow at all. It had been a little awkward, when they first learned of their relationship, and Ron had refused to talk to her about it at first, but now it was like it should be.  
She let Hermione have her privacy with them most of the time – they were the Golden Trio, after all. They were her friends, but not to the extent they were Hermione's friends.  
But they were all together often enough, and Ginny laughed at them when they were on their brooms, and they threw a Quaffle from all angles at her, and she caught them all and threw them back with vivid accuracy.

*

One week later, Hermione received another letter. She hesitated before opening it, and Ginny rather thought she shouldn't, who were these people who didn't see Hermione for the marvelous woman she was? But they were her parents, and that mattered to Hermione – desperately.  
She didn't crumple that one, and slowly a thoughtful look replaced her apprehensive one.  
“I think they're coming around.” She said to Ginny, incredulous. “Not enough, but they don't tell me they're going to introduce me to boys, or talk to me about childhood friends who would be suitable.” She threw her a small smile. “I am... hopeful?”  
Ginny hugged her.  
Hermione didn't offer to let her read that letter, and Ginny didn't ask. 

*

Times were more peaceful after that second letter. Hermione had penned a reply, and she seemed more at ease in her own skin.  
She never flew with Ginny, but all her smiles seemed more genuine, and Ginny thought she was flying in her own way.  
The stream wasn't as cold, the fruits in the orchard had never been as sweeet, and Ginny was happy watching Hermione be happy.

*

“I think I'm ready to go home.” Hermione said to her three weeks later. More letters had been penned, sometimes with puffy eyes, but she had been more and more peaceful, little by little.  
Ginny hugged her and kissed her softly. “You'll be alright?”  
“Yes.” Hermione's eyes were bright and she held her head high. “I'll make them accept who I am. I need to go home for that. It's important to me.”  
Ginny nodded. “You're always welcome here.”  
Hermione hugged her back tightly. “Thank you. If they still don't accept me... I'm confident they will. But if not... “ It was rare for Hermione to be incoherent. “If not, I will come back here. I promise.”  
“Pinky swear?”  
Hermione laughed a little at the childish gesture, but did it all the same.

Hermione didn't have to come back, but she visited often. Life was good, after all. Someday they would live together in their little cottage, with a cat or a dog and owls. A big fireplace, plush armchairs, a cozy bedroom. And dreams.


End file.
